Not Quite The Same Guys
by dcat8888
Summary: This is a continuation of the episode, 'She Ain't Deep, But She Sure Runs Fast.'


Not Quite The Same Guys

by dcat

OOOOO

I do not own the characters of Hardcastle and McCormick.

Personally, this was one the stories that was very hard to let go of, it kept getting longer as I kept finding more that I needed to say, or that they needed to say.

This story is a continuation of the episode "She Ain't Deep, But She Sure Runs Fast." I always wondered what McCormick meant in the end tag, when he responded to the Sheriff's question of 'Are you the same guys that were in the plane crash a month ago?' and Mark answered, 'Not quite the same guys,' so this is my take on their 'Run Through The Jungle.' Strap in for some angst! It also briefly foreshadows the episodes, "Do Not Go Gentle" and "A Chip Off The Ol' Milt."

OOOOO

"On me the tempest falls. It does not make me tremble. O holy Mother Earth, O air and sun, behold me. I am wronged" ...Aeschylus

"Hey, what's the big idea Hardcase? I thought we were cleaning up?" McCormick asked the Judge as he stepped out onto the long, concealed wooden deck of the rustic lodge that they had checked into after visiting with the sheriff and eating an enormous amount of real food for the first time in a month. There was no denying that Mark McCormick was beginning to feel like a new man, well, the new, old man. In his opinion, there was a lot to be said for routine and normalcy and he was happy to return to it in every possible way. He had firmly and clearly resolved to himself to put the past month behind him and was now hoping that his friend was doing just the same. There was no way of knowing for sure when it came to Judge Milton C. Hardcastle. The good, old-fashioned curveball was always his favorite pitch. He remembered hearing Hardcastle say that he felt like a 'million bucks' now that he was back among the living, but there was still something that was just a bit off.

Appearances could be deceiving and this was a glaring one. Milt Hardcastle still sported the rather burly looking beard that he had been growing over the past month. The scab on the side of his face, near his temple, that he had gotten from the plane crash was now beginning to turn from scab to scar. And from the looks of the new, clean clothes he wore, McCormick knew the Judge obviously had showered and was wearing the plaid, flannel shirt and jeans that the Sheriff had sent over to the Pine Woods Lodge. The Judge turned abruptly when he heard the familiar voice of his friend and he twisted around to see a completely shaved and showered Mark McCormick standing just on the edge of the interior room and the deck.

"Hey hey there kiddo, got yourself squared away and cleaned all up huh? Feel better too, I bet?" There it was again, thought McCormick, there was something in the tone of Milt's voice that sent up a red flag for McCormick. It was the same tone he'd heard for the last few weeks. The only way he could describe it was that it was _too_ nice and _too_ sad sounding all at the same time. Not that the Judge couldn't be nice, because he was, but his niceness wasn't in the tone of his voice or in grandiose actions, it was entirely subtle and always unobtrusive. As for the sadness, well, that was to be expected during the survival escapade they'd both made it through. McCormick hoped that now, here in town, back among civilization and having survived the ordeal that the Old Hardcastle would return. He'd give it time though.

Mark gave an affirmative nod to his question as the Judge gave his younger friend a once over look. McCormick would have rather heard a smart aleck response in return, but it never came. Hardcastle _sounded_ like his old self, but his demeanor and that tone in his voice was what was deceiving to McCormick. Combined with the burly beard, well it just wasn't 'right.' He decided to roll with the conversation at hand and see where it played out.

The Judge quickly was eyeing him up and down. McCormick's clothes looked at least one size too big, maybe more. There was no telling just how much weight he'd lost over the past, wretched month, but from the looks of the outfit, it was somewhat substantial. Then again, maybe the Sheriff had simply got the size wrong. McCormick had done the bulk of the 'heavy' work as Hardcastle was quick to admit to the Sheriff as they gave him a preliminary report. That heavy work combined with the monumental hike they endured had now taken their toll on him, on both of them really. The kid didn't realize how much weight he had shed either as he had given the Deputy his normal size, only now to find out that he'd lost some definite mass. McCormick didn't seem to mind as he was simply happy that the clothes he now wore were clean, warm and unblemished.

Words could not describe how happy he was to literally toss the shabby and tattered jeans and t-shirt he had worn for the past month. It would only be a matter of time now until he'd 'grow' back into the size he was used to being. And they'd be home sometime tomorrow and he could wear his own comfortable clothes again. It was all part of the 'getting back to normal' that he wanted. McCormick didn't know that he'd ever forget Oregon, but he sure wanted to try. Some good food, mixed with some poor handyman habits and a lot of lazing about would take care of adding those pounds he'd lost back in a hurry. It didn't really matter to him that the shirt he had on was a little big, or that the jeans he wore had quite a bit of extra material and the belt he'd been given was cinched tight. At the given moment he was more interested in the Judge's appearance and his state of mind. He still had the beard and an empty sort of stare that he first noticed about two weeks earlier. "Looks like _you_ missed something though or didn't the razor work. I can ask for another one at the desk for you. You do know you have to trim it a little first." Mark stroked at his own clean chin to give the Judge a hint, ignoring his own apparel for a discussion about the Judge's whiskers.

Milt didn't have the heart to comment on Mark's somewhat gaunt appearance either rather, he let the fingers of his left hand rise up to gently stroke at the beard that still sprouted on his aging face. He had managed to trim a little bit of it, to clean up the shape of it, but he couldn't bring himself to shave it off as he stood in front of the mirror of his hotel lodge room just hours before. Up until that moment, he felt great, or at least he thought he did. Relieved and happy that their radical romp through the Oregon wilderness was over, he was ready to remove the last remaining visible remnants and then all of a sudden, standing their in the Lodge's bathroom, he saw his reflection staring back at him causing him to have a flood of memories and feelings rush back at him remembering everything that had happened. It stopped him cold. For the longest and strangest amount of time, he let the palms of his hands lean on the sink counter and he merely stared at himself as though he'd never seen his own reflection before. It wasn't until the hot water and forthcoming steam nearly ran themselves out of the Lodge's tap that he realized he'd been staring for far too long. He shook his head, closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath. His heart was racing and a layer of cold sweat engulfed him from head to toe. _What the hell_ was all he could think? _It's all over now Milt, you made it, you and the kid made it. That's what you wanted. You should be happy, euphoric, not apprehensive and uneasy. Calm down will ya? Everything is fine. You're both fine. _

The very thought that he and McCormick had survived seemed to bring him some peace of mind for a moment. He tried to let the thought sink into his mind, but it didn't get very far as he stood there looking into his own tired eyes. He felt and looked old and weary. After that he set the clippers and the razor off to the side as he opted for a long shower. He'd try that first and come back to shaving later. Maybe that was what he needed, to wash away the top layer. Yet, all the while, standing under the steady shower stream, all he continued to see was that anonymous face of his, which seemed to be overflowing with emotion and yet devoid of it all at the same time. Inside he felt the same way too, sort of empty. He'd felt that way for weeks now, as if something simply snapped inside of him. After the unfulfilling shower, he made up his mind not to shave, instead he had quickly gotten dressed and then immediately came to sit outside on the lodge's secluded porch that was shared between the two rooms that he and McCormick occupied. The sheriff insisted they be put up at the nicest lodge in Myrtle Creek and neither one of them was to worry about any expenses. It was a kind and extravagant gesture and much appreciated by both men. Even though the sheriff had only heard a preliminary shortened version of their ordeal, he quickly understood the horrors the two of them had endured to make it out of the Oregon wilderness alive and with two alleged murderers in tow. He was quick to show his gratitude.

For all intensive purposes, Milt was calm and contented. Thankful and fortunate that the torment was behind them, he repeatedly checked his pulse now as he sat on the porch, not to bet with the kid like he usually did, but rather, to make sure it was under control and not booming like his racing heart still seemed to be. His head was full of thoughts, and yet he couldn't remember a thing he was thinking. He got up to stand at the porch railing for a few minutes watching several boys toss a football below. His mind initially raced back to Arkansas and he remembered playing catch with Gerald when they were both young boys. From there his mind whirled to the Kenny Longren case and then he quickly recalled the time he took McCormick to a Raiders game, all much happier times. When the boys below spotted him staring at them, they ran off to another location where they could play without an audience. Hardcastle conjured up a patronizing smile as they tore off and he turned to again take a seat in the nearby rocker on the porch. He knew that McCormick would take as long a shower as he could possible stand, but as the time wore on, he felt his own anxiety growing once again, like it had out in the Oregon wilderness. He recalled that the kid had been incessantly talking about how good a hot shower would once again feel during the last few days of their trek, when they began to see signs of civilization, like empty campsites and human foot tracks and they realized they were indeed going to make it out of the Oregon wilderness alive. The quiet anxiety didn't last long however, as McCormick was now quick to appear on the porch, his mouth going a mile a minute. Maybe the kid could help him shake the funk he felt once and for all.

Now that they'd both eaten heartily and had gotten the long, overdue showers, Mark stood by waiting for a reason why the Judge had neglected to shave. Hardcastle gave a long, drawn out breath and replied, "Yeah, I don't know why, I'll shave it off tomorrow I suppose."

There it was that same tone. Sad and nice. His nonchalant answer slightly fazed Mark. He chose again to ignore the tone by chalking it up to the Judge being tired. "You suppose?" McCormick chuckled as he took a few more confident steps toward the Judge before plopping down in a nearby seat in the wooden Adirondack chair beside him. Hardcastle still sat in a wooden rocker, gently swinging to and fro. Milt noticed that the kid still was favoring his right leg as he walked by him. McCormick kept at him, "You got so used to all this nature stuff that you're changing your look now, aren't you?" McCormick continued to badger him. "Going with the mountain man image for awhile after all huh? Well, it sort of suits you, in that rugged, adventurer sort of way. Beside's it'll just add to that 'legend' status you already hold on so many other fronts." The kid began to 'draw' up a new title of sorts for the Judge in the air in front of him. "Yes, that's Judge Milton C. Hardcastle, Superior Court Justice, accomplished crime fighter and now Grizzly Adams reincarnated. I can see the cover of your biography now." McCormick continued to needle him to get him to talk.

It started to work, a bit of the feistiness came back, along with some coloring in Hardcastle's almost hidden cheeks. "I'm not changing anything, I didn't feel like shaving tonight, that's all! I'm tired." His eyes focused in on McCormick, he was turning the tables. "You look like you lost thirty pounds," The Judge curtly observed, attempting to take the chatter off of himself. "That leg of yours is still bothering you too?"

Mark ignored the question about his gimpy leg, choosing to focus on his somewhat frail looks. "It feels like I lost thirty pounds," Mark agreed, patting the spot where a tiny gut used to be, "But I'm sure most of it is all the dirt and the stupid beard I totted around. Honestly, I gotta admit it felt good to shave it off. I mean it's nice to not have to shave that every day, but I'm just not a beard guy. Not only did it look stupid, I hated how it felt. I'm glad it's gone." He tapped at his flat stomach again. "I am kind of hungry again though. I could use another meal"

"Hungry? Are you kidding me? You ate half a cow just a few hours back. I'm not sure that restaurant wants to see us back at their counter any time soon. These folks are being really kind to us McCormick, so we shouldn't over stay our welcome."

"Yeah, but that was the first good meal I've had this month, give me a break will ya? Forget the four food groups and just give me grease, meat from a cow, anything fried and hot coffee and keep it coming. The only thing I want to take back from here is that diner. Do you think there really is a Myrtle? Or is someone just cashing in on the name of the town?"

That latest comment gave Hardcastle the opportunity to show a brief smile, but it quickly faded. "As soon as we get back to LA, and that'll be tomorrow, you can eat all you want and you're going to see Charlie about that knee. You might have a tear or some sort of structural damage in there," the Judge tossed out a caring chide. "You don't want to mess around with something like that. You'll get it taken care of right away."

"Yeah, I'm sure that a 300 mile hike along with other things, through the Oregon wilderness doesn't have anything to do with it aching. I just need to rest it. It'll be fine." He had let his hand stop the gentle kneading he'd been giving his knee and instead stretched out his legs in front of him in an effort to get even more comfortable. For a moment it was working too.

"Well, seeing Charlie is a done deal, so don't think you're getting out of it."

In the two plus years that McCormick had been in the Judge's custody, he was now able to easily spot the Judge's way he showed he cared and in this instance, it was Hardcastle's semi-gruff order that he was going to the doctor. There was no room or need to argue about it.

McCormick watched the Oregon sky. For a change, it was clear blue, not a cloud to be seen. It seemed like it had been raining and storming nightly out in the midst of the primeval forest, but now, the pale, white beginnings of a quarter moon could be seen in the distance. Evening was approaching. He remained quiet hoping that the Judge would say something. Sometime during the now infamous dinner at the counter of Myrtle's Diner, he noticed the Judge wasn't returning his usual talkative self. At the time he credited it up to the need for hunger and rest, now, he didn't know what to think. He'd just lived through several weeks with a different sort of Hardcastle and he was hoping that he'd revert to being the Hardcase he knew and loved so well, like he himself was doing. For the immediate moment he too, was at a loss for words, an unusual occurrence between them both. No sound came from either of them to break the silence they sat in. "So," and he stretched out the so, "What's up?" McCormick finally broke down and asked.

"What do you mean, what's up? Nothing's up," Hardcastle answered. "I'm just sitting here."

"All right then, well, why are you sitting out here staring at a bunch of trees? I know the smell of pine isn't quite as alluring to me anymore. I'm not crazy about the cool breeze either or nightfall coming on and I sure as hell am sick of the smell of a campfire right now. Why don't we go inside? We're back among the living Judge in case you forgot, civilization, you remember that right? There's people right here in town. We can go socialize with other, normal people. We made it. Aren't you the guy who told me two days ago that you had enough of nature? You know they even have cable TV in the room. We could watch a ballgame or catch up on the news, something must have happened in the real world since we've been out here. We can see how many games back the Dodger's are now. Don't you want to know? And it's got to beat shivering out here, staring at trees and not saying anything." McCormick fired off the endless banter.

"I'm not staring at a bunch of trees McCormick, I'm relaxing. Clearing my mind, giving it a break from any sort of thinking. Don't you think I deserve that? Is that okay with you? Besides, those trees look a lot different right now than they have for the past month. They're seem sturdy and reliable now, before they were, I don't know impenetrable maybe. I kind of like 'em right now."

McCormick understood what he was saying, but this was Milton C. Hardcastle he was sitting next too. Introspective was not his middle name. He asked a question, he got an answer that was the sort of guy he was, it was what he expected. Hardcastle worked like a metronome, pulsing evenly. "Listen Judge, don't take this the wrong way, but you don't ever relax and trees, well they're trees. We have the same ones in the backyard," he glanced out at the forest before him and started to point, "Well, except for maybe that one there, and that one, I've never seen that one out in Malibu either." He went for the humor again to no avail. He heard the Judge take a deep breath and waited for his response.

"McCormick, we just spent the last month in survival mode, I think I'm entitled to relax for an hour or so. There's nothing wrong with quiet. You should try it some time, you know this is how you're supposed to enjoy nature."

Mark frowned. He was more than weary from all the quiet lately. He wanted the city, he wanted his car, he wanted noise, he wanted all the stuff he had before. "Well, you're right about _this_ being the way to enjoy nature, I'm all for hanging out in a beautiful lodge, wearing warm clothes and sitting out on the porch to watch the sunset. Having someone to cook for me and clean up after me, yeah, that's nature at its best all right. Anything beats the cold, hard ground, rain pouring down on me and so many cuts, scrapes and bug bites that someone might think I'm just a bad accident. I am the guy who voted for Hawaii, remember? Warm tropical breezes, soft sand, hula girls and cold drinks by the poolside bar! That's what I wanted. And I'm not forgetting that you promised that for next year." Hardcastle seemed more than content to let him ramble. McCormick paused for a moment to let the Judge's words sink in again. He didn't know if they did, so he continued. "Okay, I'm not arguing with you about that, this, right now, on this porch, is sort of relaxing in a way, it's just, well, it's unusual for you. Sitting quietly? Come on. I know it's damn near impossible for me. But you, you always have a thousand things on your mind, and twenty million plans, cases to solve, all that sort of thing. Next thing you're going to be telling me that you're keeping the Grizzly Adams beard too. And I'm not so sure I can get used to that. Going from the Lone Ranger to Daniel Boone is going to be a real adjustment. Seriously, I can't see you as a naturalist Judge, and no way am I eating grizzly bear meat, ever. I don't even want to see another fish for a very long time, or a rabbit, or a squirrel." No comment came from the Judge, so Mark kept at him. The shower had given him a second wind for his sharp mind and wit. He ventured down a new road. "Instead of being so insistent on me seeing Charlie when we get home, maybe you ought to set up an appointment too. All those roots and berries might have damaged something, like your sense of humor. Are you sure you feel all right?"

Hardcastle kept looking straight out into the wilderness, but he afforded himself a hidden internal smile. The kid was quickly returning to his normal, wise-cracking self and that was a good thing. For the most part it appeared that McCormick would come through this latest trial of their's unscathed. Hardcastle didn't quite feel the same way. He had experienced some sort of change in the Oregon wilderness that at the moment, he was still trying to understand. Right now he didn't know if it was good or bad. It was just different. There were many days even before this last crazy month that he had often wondered and worried about what was going on inside McCormick's head, without giving much thought to his own. Sometimes he thought the kid's success meant more to him than it did to Mark. He knew full well who he was and any sort of doubt or insecurity never seemed to enter his own consciousness. His energy was focused on McCormick and on their cases, or so he thought until he heard himself admit out loud in the cave that he had had McCormick placed in his custody for his own needs. Could that really be true? Was he just a selfish old man? Was he really more reliant on this kid than he thought the kid was on him? Did he have to live through this latest jaunt to learn this and have his eyes opened? And if it was indeed true, was any of it fair to McCormick, especially this latest death-defying escapade? Now those things were in the forefront and they came rushing at him. The last thing he wanted to do was to let on to it to the kid the crazy thoughts going through his own head. But was McCormick thinking the same things he was thinking? Given the last few minutes of conversation, he'd have to say no. There was a clear difference between the nervous McCormick whose mouth ran overtime and whose comments had a raw bite to them and whose thinking wasn't always clear compared to this, the more playful McCormick which was the one currently sitting beside him. Now, he just had the sharp wit and easy going teasing nature of his, as they sat out on the porch. No, he knew the kid was fine. It was he himself that doubted.

"Seriously Judge, is something wrong? Did something happen while I was in the shower?" McCormick kept his eyes fixed on the Judge, who still hadn't turned to look at him.

Mark turned back in his chair and watched the early evening breeze sway contently through the trees, trying to see what Hardcastle was looking at. He didn't think he'd get an answer from the Judge on that last question he'd just asked. He gave up rather easily in his quest to pick and prod at the Judge. The man had said he wanted quiet, so he let it go. The ordeal they'd been through would give pause to anyone and the Judge had most definitely earned the 'right' to be introspective for awhile if that was what he wanted. They'd fall back into their 'routine' soon enough. Maybe Hardcastle was right, they both needed to simply relax. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the chair he was in and all he could hear was some sort of unknown bird chirping off in the distance, he was quickly lulled by its song and the wind blowing through the pines.

And then Milt's voice, quieter than usual, filled the silence. "I learned a lot about myself this past month McCormick."

McCormick kept his eyes closed and his mouth going, "I learned a lot about you too, like when you sleep on your left side, out on the cold ground, you snore. You put the grizzly bears to shame out there, you know that don't you? I'm sure that's why we never got attacked. They knew they could not compete with you so they didn't even try." He opened his eyes and peered over toward his friend. Hardcastle still focused on the trees. Mark let his smile turn into a powerful yawn. As much as he desired about forty straight hours of sleep, he now realized that the two of them had some parlaying to get out in the open. He forced himself to attention, but still managed to let his body relax in the wooden chair. He also craved the normalcy he had known for the past couple of years but maybe a good old-fashioned 'porch' chat would do the trick. The only things missing were a couple of corn-cob pipes, some straw hats, a jug of moonshine and someone to cue the harmonica music. He knew he needed to be serious though. Trading barbs with the Judge brought him his own sort of peace of mind and he needed, or maybe even longed for the witty repartee that was natural between them. First he'd have to go through the introspective peace and quiet.

"That's not the sort of learning I'm talking about," the Judge said in a continued quiet tone. "I'm talking about the feeling of dread that I have."

The sudden verbal admission was a surprise to McCormick. _Hardcastle actually was leading a discussion about his feelings _was all Mark could think. "I figured that something was up with you." McCormick answered sensitively as he paused and frowned. This was something a little new, he was always the one confiding in the Judge, not the other way around and now it seemed as if the Judge was reversing the role. McCormick's natural reaction was to play things light, since he knew how the Judge felt about touchy-feely subjects. The first night they had spent in the cave, after the plane crashed, was the only time in the course of the month that the Judge had remotely ventured down the pathway regarding how they felt about each other, and immortality in general. He explained it to McCormick at the time that he needed to say what he did in case one of them had to bury the other, a fairly sobering thought. The conversation then turned to other topics of life. It was just as unusual then as it was now. When the Judge had admitted he thought of McCormick as a son, Mark feigned being asleep and had only brought up the topic again briefly as they arrived in Myrtle Creek, which Hardcastle then had brushed off then as well. He had left that discussion till now. He never expected to hear Hardcastle tell him how he felt about him. That was just how the Judge was. Besides, by now Mark knew inside and that was all that mattered to him. He couldn't help but ask himself was this where Hardcastle intended to go with this conversation? After that first night out on their own, they'd both turned into survivalists, having to combine their diminishing physical strength as well as their weakened mental endurance in order to continue to exist. Their 'time' was devoted to getting out alive and it left neither of them to having the time, energy or even the will to discuss the bigger things of life and certainly not in the presence of the two madmen they had captured. Their day's never ended, morning ran in to night and back to day, they alternated sleeping, so that one always kept watch over Walsh and Staller at all times. They had no time for chit chat. Every second had a specific purpose for enduring and survival. Hiking, finding food, keeping hydrated, gathering wood for a fire, trying to locate shelter in the midst of the endless rain they faced. And all that happened only after they expended time and energy to capture the two men and their repeated attempts at escape.

Mark thought about all of it while he showered, and even though he wouldn't necessarily mind broaching the topic of survival, he knew Milton C. Hardcastle well enough in three years to know that it would never happen. So he had pushed it away and now it was here and Milt had brought the topic to the forefront. He treaded lightly. "Hell Judge, we just survived, well hell to put it mildly. I mean come on, a plane crash, a near drowning, the worst weather imaginable, and three murderous, psycho environmentalists bent on killing us for no apparent reason, except that it was some sort of primitive game for them. We were chased and hunted, we battled Mother Nature, we got shot at repeatedly, we buried people and then we had to find a way out of there, with two freaks still in tow. It was a living nightmare for the most part. You'd be weird if didn't learn something about yourself." There, he'd tossed up a soft one to see where it would land.

Silence engulfed them both, the wind turned cooler on both of them, as the sun continued its descent in the western sky. McCormick crossed his arms over his chest in an effort to keep warm. He'd rather be having this chat inside where it was warm and they could bask in the cool-fire glow of the television.

It was a long period of time before Hardcastle spoke. McCormick had nearly drifted off once again sitting in the chair. He was exhausted in mind and body and if Milt didn't say something soon enough, Mark would be asleep. As much as he wanted to hear what the Judge had to say, his body wasn't exactly willing at the moment. Everything about his own answer or explanation he'd given was different from the subdued, almost whispering tone of the Judge's voice, to the content of the Judge's answer too. As Hardcastle began to speak again, McCormick's eyelids pushed open and he was quick to give his attention to the Judge, to a side he'd never really seen before.

"I don't know how we did this one kiddo. Even though we made it, I can't help but wonder if we really did? We should have died a thousand different ways out there. When that plane crashed and you and I managed to survive," he shook his head. "I started by telling myself that we could make it. I had to, I had to believe it not only for myself but for you as well. We would make it. You know I had some survival type of training in the Army, I could fall back on that. We were together, you know? Neither of us was critically injured, that was a bonus. We could fish, maybe catch some small game, make a fire and walk out of there back to civilization. I knew it would be tough, hell, even brutal, but not impossible. Best of all we had each other to rely on. And then we really had a wrench thrown into the mix with those crazy SOB's. And the longer it went, the harder it got for me. I gotta tell you, you got good instincts McCormick. If you hadn't been there…" Hardcastle shook his head and looked at the floor. He stopped talking.

"That goes both ways, Kemosabe. You're the brains behind this whole arrangement we have going on here, me I'm just the fast gun, remember? There's no telling what would have happened to me out there alone," Mark quickly entered the conversation, in an effort to keep the Judge from saying something he was uncomfortable with and something that definitely wasn't true.

"You're young and strong, that alone is a huge benefit in your favor. And you got the smarts too, you would have made it. Yep, there's no doubt about that." The Judge though, wasn't stopping with that. In the same hushed voice, he continued on. "I think I held you back kiddo. And I'm sorry about that. It just kept getting worse every day. The lack of food, sleep, water, being lost 300 miles from nowhere" he stopped and swallowed hard, "Sanity." He picked his head up. "Every crazy thought entered my head at one point or another. "And every day was worse than the one before. It was so gradual, most of the time that I didn't realize it was happening. At first I felt like I could do anything and then little by little it began to happen, I would have so many doubts and fears, anxiety, paranoia, whatever you want to call it. I didn't know if I'd be able to get myself off the cold, hard ground in the morning."

"But _you _did, we did," McCormick interjected. "Judge, without you, I couldn't have done it either. I don't know the first thing about hunting or tracking or leaving trails, I counted on you for all that stuff."

"I dragged you down kiddo. It changed me though, out there," he pointed into the shimmering darkness of the evergreens. He tried to explain it another way, "I don't like to lose, not to anyone or anything. I still feel like I lost kiddo."

"You're telling me you don't like to lose? You realize it's me out on the basketball court that you usually destroy," McCormick joked, even mustered up a laugh, and he followed it up with some seriousness. "You didn't lose Judge, we made it, look at us, if that's not winning, nothing is. Anyway, I'm not so sure that was a game in the usual sense. It was just survival. When you have to survive, you do what you have to do."

"Maybe you're right, maybe it's not winning or losing, I don't really know. When there are no rules and chaos is all around at every turn. Every day was bleaker than the one before. I can't get my arms around that. Battling against nature and man like that, against myself too, it doesn't make sense. I feel like I let you down too. I kept asking myself how those guys got to the point in their lives where they thought their lifestyle of killing was the right thing. How did they get there? Why'd they get there? And how long would it be for me to get to that point, 'cause I sure as hell felt like I was going down the same road the longer we were out there. Was that all it took? Being forced into some survivalistic torture? I was losing control fast. Was I going to turn into that? There was no way to know, or no way to stop it from happening. I really wanted to kill them too, not just that day we captured them, but about every day after that. If you hadn't stopped me then, I would have bashed in their skulls. Where did that even come from?"

"Self preservation," McCormick stated. "We all have it in us. You wanted to survive and when you have that, you'll do anything you can to make sure it happens."

"Ah, that's too easy, saying the words, living it, like we did, I just can't understand it. This is different. I can't even explain it right." Milt stopped and tried to think of how to clarify his thoughts. "I've had to kill people before, I've seen people die before, I sat on the bench for thirty years McCormick, making rulings and judgments, but this time, this was different. I don't like how it felt, how it still feels. I can't get any of it out of my mind. It's just a constant reliving of everything. I can't get those dead faces out of my head kiddo. Three of them I didn't even know, and one I didn't even bury. But I'll be damned that I keep seeing them all, either dead or dying right before my eyes. And I have no real feeling for them, except for Buzz I suppose. More than one night out there I actually thought he was lucky for dying like he did, for not having to go through what we were going through. How do you explain feeling something like that? I can't seem to shake it. All of it was so senseless and absurd. Nightmare doesn't even come close to describing the pointlessness of all of it. So I'm sitting here trying to understand any of it and I can't. I know I'm not making any sense right now either." He stopped talking and paced a few steps on the porch and tossed off a twig he'd been holding in his hand. "None of it is right, not Buzz dying or the plane crashing or them lunatics killing helpless people, and most definitely not you and I getting caught up in all of it. Even though it's over and my mind should be clear and at peace, I'm not. I can't get it right. Hell, look at me, do I even look like the same person?"

"Maybe if you'd shave off the beard it would help?" McCormick went for a joke again. No verbal or non-verbal response came from Hardcastle. He wasn't in the mood for humor, though somewhere deep inside him, he appreciated the attempt. "Listen, when we get back home, we'll dress you up in your robe, let you bang your gavel, and search your endless sandbox of files and wha-la, you'll be back to normal in no time," Mark tried to again lighten up the mood, but Hardcastle ignored the joking. McCormick sat forward in the chair and pondered what else he could say. "Judge, you have to do what you've always done, put it behind you and keep moving forward, otherwise the other way will just make you crazy. Take it from me on this one, you know I'm right about that and believe me I know that, speaking from the personal prison experience and all. It's sort of the same thing. There were days that I couldn't find any meaning to that either, being locked up and confined in a cell," McCormick attempted to explain. "Maybe the only meaning to take from all of it is that you appreciate what you do have and how what you're going through will make you a better person. In the end, it's the only choice you can make, going forward. The will to live, survive, natural law, you know, at any cost, that's a powerful thing."

"Maybe, kiddo, maybe you're right," he paused and closed his eyes, "But, just maybe, I should have thought about _all _the faces before now. This life isn't just about me. Maybe this was a wake-up call of sorts. Maybe I haven't been so 'right' after all. Maybe I've just been judgmental and selfish."

"Oh no you don't, I'm not letting you go down that road. Are you kidding me?" He scoffed at Hardcastle. "Judge, pardon me for reminding you that you were a JUDGE, you're supposed to be judgmental. Everything you've done in your life has been right, including the little known facts that you've never had an overdue book at the public library or forgotten to mail a letter without a stamp on it. You've changed people's lives for the better, and you can start by looking at me. Here's one face you changed for the better, and I'm sure there's a million more people behind me that would say the same thing. You know for every person you've directly touched, there's probably at least ten more you've touched indirectly. You don't even realize that. That's not selfish, that's positive, unmitigated impact. Just because you've sentenced people to prison, doesn't mean you've done it without thought or concern. It's the exact opposite. I mean, you have your code and you follow it. Trust me, your sense of right and wrong is about as clearly defined as night and day are"

"I'm not fishing for compliments here, I'm trying to tell you that I feel different about all this," he stopped, frustrated in his manner, and added, "Those are nice things to say McCormick, I appreciate that," Hardcastle glanced away, unwilling to make eye contact.

'You're welcome," McCormick interrupted him, "But you're still not believing it right now are you?" He realized from the last comment that this was something that was really bothering Hardcastle and it had nothing to do with the 'replacing my son' comment he'd heard so many weeks earlier. McCormick was slightly relieved by that, as that discussion would have been uncomfortable for both of them. This was hard enough as it was.

"We talked a little bit out there about being scared, but I gotta be honest, what I'm feeling isn't being scared. I stopped being scared when we caught those guys the first time."

"So what is it then?"

"I think I left myself or part of myself out there somewhere," he pointed toward the trees and beyond. "I know none of this is making any kind of sense. Maybe it's like dread, nothingness, and at the same time, this overwhelming bombardment of everything, you know?" He suddenly shifted gears, narrowed his eyes and asked a question of McCormick. "Let me ask you then, how'd you deal with all that stuff out there?"

The question stumped McCormick for a moment. "The same way I deal with everything I expect," McCormick answered assuredly, turning up his lips with the hint of a smile.

"Which is what?"

"I always keep one eye on you," he grinned.

"Oh, you're not making any sort of sense. Everything's always a joke to you. Here I am trying to be serious and have a conversation with you and you're just acting silly." The Judge crossed his leg and turned away from him.

McCormick quickly straightened up. Now that this had started between the two of them, he was more than willing to see it through to the end. "Okay wait, just hear me out. Let me see if I can explain it, well, a little more seriously. "I follow _your_ lead Judge, that's what I meant. Now I know that's a heavy load you have to carry, but seriously, your instincts are pretty much spot on. Maybe I don't demonstrate it enough for you or say it out loud, but there's not a man on this earth I have more respect for than you. Honestly, you gotta realize that? If you say, build a fire, that's what I'll do. If you say, it looks like rain, I'm putting on a raincoat. And if you say that some sleazebag is up to no good, then I'll chase him down, alongside of you and bring him to justice." Mark glanced over to confirm that the Judge was listening. Even though his head still faced away, Mark knew he was. "Milt, even though you're the biggest donkey on the planet, but by now you gotta know I'd follow you into hell."

There was the unmistakable sound of a heavy exhaust, "If this wasn't it, it was pretty close kiddo."

"Yeah, but somehow, Judge, as long as we were in it together, I knew we'd come out all right. We always do. The reason I want to follow you, is 'cause you're gonna end up in the right place. I've had enough of the _wrong places_ too many times in my life. You'll never hear me admit this out loud again, but I'm getting used to 'right' for a change. Your way isn't always easy Hardcase, but it's always right."

Crickets began their evening song and a couple of fireflies began to light up near the edge of the trees, hovering over the grass. The Judge got up and walked over to the other railing. "McCormick, you remember that one stretch of days out there, when you went off to find something for us to eat before we were literally going to starve to death?" He glanced over his shoulder to see Mark nod. "How many days were you gone?"

"Four," Mark said. He debated whether or not to continue, but after the strained stillness began to set in between them, he began to reveal what had happened to him, "I never told you, but I'm sure you realized that I got lost out there, just like you said I would. I took a wrong turn and before I knew it, I didn't have a clue as to where I was. I had to get us food and that was all I could think of. We were starving. I was so exhausted and so hungry by then Judge, we'd gone for so long without anything but water. The lack of food was taking a toll on all of us. I knew we couldn't go on like that. I had to do something and it was the only thing I could come up with. I was scared for both of us, it was the only thing I could think of and then I totally screwed up. But I had to get away, I don't know how else to explain it."

"Yeah, I know, you don't have to explain it, I think I felt the same way. And the argument we had over you going off was stupid and useless. I hate to admit it, but the only reason I didn't want you to go is because I didn't want you to be the hero. Isn't that stupid? All you wanted to do was save us," the Judge began to admit his failings out loud.

"Judge, that's what Walsh and Staller wanted you to believe, that wasn't you. Those two lunatics were challenging every move we made and laughing at us all the while. I know I got so angry at you at you that day. I know you didn't want me to go off by myself for that exact reason that happened, but I wasn't thinking clearly either. I should have listened to you and stayed close by. And in the end, you just let me go, you backed down, instead of arguing or fighting with me. I didn't quite get that, but I still had to go, if we were going to survive, we needed food."

"I let you go, 'cause I didn't know how to stop you. I don't think I could have stopped you if I'd been one of those Saturday morning superhero guys with their fancy superpowers. I didn't have the strength or the savvy to prevent you from going. I never saw you like that before, for a moment I almost thought you were going to pick up the gun and shoot me, if I stood in your way."

"I'm sorry Judge. I wanted you to try to stop me. Judge, I was out of my head, I don't know what I was thinking." McCormick rubbed at his temple and shook his head, "No, I wouldn't have done that. I wouldn't have shot you, honestly, never, I wasn't thinking that, you have to believe that, that thought was never in my head," he looked to the Judge who nodded his understanding.

"Aw, I believe you. I know you wouldn't have shot me. But that's exactly my point, I wasn't thinking clearly about anything. That was what was scary. I was falling for the garbage coming out of the mouths of Walsh and Staller rather than the things I knew to be true."

McCormick was still fazed by the Judge's comment about shooting him. "That's not even close to what I was thinking. Judge, to me," the frustration evident in his voice, "To me, you were giving up. I tried everything with you, anything and everything I could do to get you motivated, but it was like you had given up. Those days leading up to that, you weren't listening, you hardly moved, you wouldn't even drink any water and you were letting those clowns get to you at every turn. I saw it time and time again. Everything they said and did just got to you. I've never seen you like that before. That scared me more than anything else. So when you wouldn't even stand up to me and stop me from running off by myself to go try to hunt for something for us to eat, well that was the last straw I guess. I had to go, to save you, to save us, even if that meant dire consequences. But by God, Judge, I never would have shot you."

"I know." Hardcastle nodded toward the darkening trees, "Out there alone kiddo, I didn't think you could do it, I doubted your ability and I'm sorry about that. Part of me thought you were running off and leaving me to deal with them alone. You were fed up and you were a lot more able than I was to fend for yourself and make it back here. You didn't need me weighing you down. I was envious and angry. I'm not making excuses for myself. All I can try to say is that wasn't me out there, you have to understand that. You're absolutely correct about how I was to you out there and I'm sure sorry about that. You're stronger than I gave you credit for, not just physically, mentally too. I sure as hell know that now."

"Well, you were right, I shouldn't have tried it. It was stupid to attempt. My head wasn't right either, I was worried about leaving you alone with them and I wasn't paying attention to anything really. My mind and energy weren't thinking about marking a trail, all I could think of was getting some food for you and I to eat. Something caught my eye, I don't know what it was, maybe a deer, I started running after it and all it took was one wrong turn. I was lost, big time lost. By the time I realized I wasn't where I should be, it was pitch dark out and I don't know how far off track I had gone. I knew I couldn't start firing off the gun randomly, I needed that for hunting. We didn't have much ammunition left." Mark shut his eyes tightly and laughed nervously as he began to recall the incident. "I must have stood in that one spot for hours, my mouth hanging open, fear all around me and darkness setting in fast. Dead silence. There didn't even seem to be a bird chirping nearby. Everything was still and closing in on my fast, even in the midst of such vastness. I don't remember how long I stood there like that but eventually I just gave up and dropped down to the ground. I never noticed that the sky had clouded over until the first bolt of lightening shot and struck a tree about ten feet from where I was. A couple of sparks lit up the charred trunk. That had to be one of the most bizarre thing I'd ever seen. I watched it and thought that it looked like an overgrown 4th of July sparkler. It lasted only a few seconds and it burned itself out. Then it started raining so hard and so cold that I was quickly sitting in fairly deep mud and all I could think to do was sit there."

"I wondered how you got all that caked on mud all over you," The Judge interjected.

"Part of me wanted to drown or get washed away." He paused to smile, "You know what though? I could hear your voice saying," and he went into his imitation Hardcastle voice, "Get yourself up there kiddo, there's a lot of work to be done."

The Judge afforded himself a laugh for the first time during the conversation when McCormick imitated him. "And that's what made you get up? Me grousing at you? Maybe I need to do that more often huh?" Hardcastle turned back to watch him.

McCormick was quick to disclose, "Well, no, I didn't get up right then, not exactly, not right away anyway. Maybe I still was mad at you, but following your orders right then was the last thing on my mind." Mark shook his head from side to side. "Nope, I did something that I hadn't done since my Mom died, not even the first night I was in prison, when I refused to," he paused and admitted, "I cried Judge. Like a baby, I just collapsed and bawled, right there in the pouring rain and mud. I wondered if I'd ever find you again and if I did find you, would it be too late and then when I suddenly realized _I was alone_, I wondered if _I'd_ ever get out of there alive. For a frightening moment in time, I forgot about everyone and everything, all I could think of was myself, all the chaos of the storm surrounding me. I know it was selfish, but that's all that was there," he tapped his head. "I grabbed hold of this medal I wear," he took a moment to pull it out from his shirt and put it between his finger and thumb, "Maybe I said a prayer or something, I can't remember exactly. I kept rubbing it just like this and it sort of had a calming effect on me. When I looked up, the rain had turned to drizzle and one of the dark clouds overhead had broken and I could see the tops of the thunderhead illuminated by the approaching moon. I waited out the night and the darkness and when it got light out, I got up determined to find you and to get us something to eat. It took me a few days to find the food and you, but I didn't stop till I got back to you. I still don't know how I made it."

"You made it because of exactly who you are." Hardcastle spun around and faced him, "McCormick, one of these days you'll realize that you can do whatever you put your mind to." Just as quickly, he turned back around and he went back to twig tossing over the balcony. The early dusk brought a softness and peaceful tranquility to the conversation. It wasn't going to last long.

Hearing the Judge say that made Mark think about telling him about his latest prospects of attempting to enter law school, something he'd been looking into before Hardcastle suggested the trip to Oregon. As much as he wanted the Judge's input and advice on his latest choice for a career, part of him wanted to surprise Hardcastle sometime down the road, when he would hopefully be accepted into and on his way. By now he knew enough of the 'right' people who would give him references he needed to get in, so he could potentially get in without the Judge knowing about it. There were so many things he wanted to ask the Judge about in regards to law school, but he held back realizing now was not the time to change the subject or the focus off of Hardcastle, instead he asked him, "Judge, what happened to _you_ out there? What happened to you while I was AWOL?" McCormick persisted.

"I told you, I lost, all I felt was dread all around me. And I didn't realize that it was a gradual thing. Every day was worse than the one before. I just lost it all and didn't even have a clue it was happening, until it was nearly too late."

"I understand that Judge, but there's got to be some specifics. You always keep a level head, heck, you're a rock, why did you let it happen?" Mark asked. "What made this different?"

"I know, that's what I'm trying to tell you, it didn't happen all at once, it was slow, and it was steady and it was one thing on top of another. Physically, I think that's where it started. I could sense myself getting weaker. I was relying on you to do everything. You worked like a dog out there McCormick and I let you. I might just have to see about having a physical when I get back, just to check everything out, it's been years since I've had all the tests. Maybe something's off kilter, I don't know."

"That sounds like a good idea," Mark replied.

"Anyway, I got weaker every day, I could feel it. From the lack of food, and all the effort it took to catch those guys the first time, let alone all the getaway attempts. How many times did they try to escape on us anyway?"

"Three times, not counting the first time we caught them and _we_ got 'em every time," Mark was quick to point out.

Hardcastle didn't seem overly happy with the shared heroics. "You got 'em, that's what you mean. I'm not as young as I used to be. You did all the chasing, like I told the sheriff. I could barely keep up with you. It took so much out of me. And look at you, you look like you've been through a war because of it. By the second attempt, I thought we should have just let them run off, or kill us or whatever it is they wanted to do to us and be done with it. I don't like to admit it, maybe that's how it started, I don't know. And then, seeing you struggle every time to re-capture them time and again, bring them back to camp and carry on as though nothing happened and still able to do your share and most of mine. It just started getting to me. Part of it was envy. I think that's when my head started getting involved."

"Judge, I never thought…" McCormick's voice trailed off as Milt interrupted him. He swallowed hard as he realized that his own youthful age and strength may have contributed to the Judge's anxiety. It was an unintentional consequence. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but I didn't do it alone. I don't expect you to do the things I do or vice versa."

"And I never gave you any reason to see me that way. It's in here though," he patted at his chest and then to his head, "and here. It all used to work together, you know, but now, the aches and pains are there, I have 'em every day and try to ignore 'em for the most part, but out here, it all came to the forefront and the mind tells you that you can do something and then the body revolts. I'm getting to be an old man and this thing we just lived through damn near about killed me. The body and the mind, they start playing tricks on each other. And believe me they did on number on me out there. It was everything you said," He admitted softly, "The exhaustion, the lack of food, the constant, crazy weather and those two jabron's, it all took its toll on me. Worst of all, I didn't even realize it was happening."

"I wish you would have said something to me out there, maybe I could have helped."

"No, you couldn't have, I'm trying to tell you that, it wouldn't have mattered. I wasn't listening to anyone except my self," Hardcastle hung his head in despair. "Did those two get in your head?" Milt asked him.

"Whatta ya mean did they get in my head? What did they do to you?" Mark narrowed his eyes.

The Judge began to explain, "You know how we alternated our sleeping, so we could keep watch over them and one of us would be awake, while the other slept?" McCormick nodded. The Judge was slow to offer up any explanation, so Mark prodded him again, "Judge what happened?"

"Did they say anything to you when you were awake, when _you_ were guarding them? You know stuff to make you question your sanity?" He opted to ask Mark another question.

McCormick was appalled to be hearing this, "No, not a bit, did they say stuff to you?" Mark straightened up in the chair as he heard this tiny bit of revelation.

"It was mostly Taylor Walsh. There's not too many people that I think are as evilly incarnate McCormick, but that guy is probably at the top of my list. He was always in my ear and again, it was gradual kiddo. At first, it was easy to ignore his babbling, his insinuations, but with every passing day, it started gnawing at me and God help me, I started to actual believe his lies."

"Judge, it's not hard to see that something like that could happen. You were in a weakened state. No part of what happened out there is your fault, I hope you're not thinking that. I'm not blaming you for anything."

Hardcastle ignored his comment. "When you ran off to find us food, Walsh, he really turned it on me. The stuff he said, the stuff I believed. It made me crazy. There's no telling how many people died at the hands of that lunatic. My bet is they'll never find all the bodies out there and we might have been two more. It's sickening, that it's all a game to him. Messing with people's heads like that. Jay Staller wasn't so bad at first, but he even joined in with Walsh while you were gone. The two of them together, it got to be maddening. They used that little rift between us that they witnessed and once you were gone they both decided to go to town on my head."

"Judge I'm so sorry. Why didn't you say something when I got back?" McCormick was becoming incensed.

"I'm telling you I was already out of my head McCormick. The way I had it visioned it in my head, if I would have mentioned it to you, and you would have attacked them, maybe tried to kill them, who knows? I couldn't let you take care of my problem, not me, Judge Milton C. Hardcastle. I take care of my own problems. I believed that for a few days and then my crazy head didn't want you to know, because it would just reinforce your force over me. I didn't need you fighting my battles. None of it makes any sense. I was out of my head."

"Judge, honestly, have I ever made you feel like that?"

"Of course not, that's what I'm trying to tell you. For awhile out there, I was completely out of my head, don't you see that?" Hardcastle was embarrassed to admit to the kid what had transpired, and even more self-conscious about reiterating what he had said over a month before. "You were honest with me before, telling me what happened to you out there, getting lost, admitting your fear and I was honest with you that first night out we spent out there in the cave. Part of me wanted you to hear what I said about you in that cave, deep down I knew you weren't asleep. I meant all of that." He didn't repeat the exact conversation, he couldn't but he knew McCormick remembered it word for word. "Kiddo, those four days you were gone, I don't know how I managed to hold it together."

"The main thing was that you did."

"There's one more thing I need to tell you about. When you came back into the camp we had set up, even though it was the middle of the night and black as coal out there, I could tell it was you and you stood there covered in crusted-over mud from head to toe, holding onto to two of the most scrawniest looking rabbits I had ever seen, looking like you were going to fall over in a split second, I thought you were a mirage. Before I could say anything, you managed to walk over to me and drop the rabbits at my feet and you told me in no uncertain terms, 'I don't know how to skin them or clean them, so now you are cooking for real, Hardcase,' before you collapsed in a heap over by the fire. I think you were asleep before you actually hit the ground."

McCormick listened closely and admitted quietly that he was surprised with what he had said by the hint of a smile on his face, "I don't even remember that. I know I was beat though and part of me couldn't believe I had found you. Seeing the fire glowing from a ways off was some sort of miracle to me."

"I don't doubt it, because I couldn't believe my eyes myself. And those two clowns couldn't believe you'd come back either. For once they both kept their mouth's shut tight. I had them tied up good and tight and I knew they weren't going anywhere. All they could do was sit there and eye up that game."

McCormick knew there was more that he wasn't telling, he was almost stalling, so he persisted, "It wasn't over for you though, was it? What happened after that?"

"They both drifted off to sleep and I had too much quiet time on my hands. Too much time to think. I didn't need anymore of that."

"Why didn't you just skin and cook up the rabbits? Aren't you the one always telling me to keep busy? Doing something always takes your mind off of your problems."

"Yeah, well, doing that did cross my mind, I sure as hell was hungry," Hardcastle seemed to be coming back to life just by telling his story. McCormick thought he almost saw him smile. "I looked over those rabbits and noticed that you had managed to put the cleanest bullet holes I'd ever seen right smack through their heads. How'd you manage that?"

"Tonto has to be a crack shot when he wants to be, all that target practicing and all out in the back yard you know?" McCormick bragged with a sly grin. "Okay, the first one was lucky. I was still sitting in the mud, feeling sorry for myself and he came scampering up to me, maybe about ten yards away and bam, I just got him. The second one took a bit more searching and a whole lot more luck. I kept hearing you tell me that if I didn't get them in the head, it wouldn't do any good for food, because you'd run the risk of getting pellet fragments throughout the body, which would ruin the parts you wanted to eat. I was trying to remember everything you'd been trying to tell me about hunting and trapping."

"Well, I'm glad you were listening to the sane part of what I had to say and disregarding the rest." Milt rocked his head in sorrow as he continued, "The worst part of the whole ordeal happened right then and there kiddo, even with you back safe and sound, all of you sleeping. This head of mine started thinking even crazier things than before. I wanted to pick up the gun you dropped and kill them two fella's for starters. I had the gun in my hands and the only thing that stopped me was that I realized that you would wake up if I started shooting. Isn't that crazy? My next thought was to take the knives we'd taken from them and stab them to death, but I couldn't do that either."

"Judge, we both had no use for either of them. I just wish you would have said something to me about them putting thoughts in your head. We could have gagged them or something and I would have tried a lot sooner to get us some food for your sake. I had no idea." Milt gave a slight nod and Mark kept on talking, "The main thing is that you didn't do anything. You held it together. Deep down Milt, that's who you are, like I've been trying to tell you all along."

The Judge heard what he had said, but dismissed it as he started retell more of his story, "Besides wanting to kill those guys, or once I got that crazy idea out of my head, the next thing I thought about was leaving, just up and leave, letting you to fend with the two of them all by yourself, can you believe that? I thought of it like a payback, like you had just left them with me." This time Mark didn't interject anything, he merely gave the Judge his continued attention. "Like I said, you all were sleeping, I was wide awake. I looked over and saw you and all those feelings I was having about you, being stronger, smarter, more able to survive out there than I was, it came rushing at me all over again. Part of me was disgusted by thinking that sort of thing, part of me was angry at you, heck, I was actually mad that you came back. It was crazy, I tell you. And then the worst thought I ever had popped into my head." Milt drew in a deep breath, "I made up my mind to leave, right then and there, to leave you with those two and I'd just go off into the woods alone, to die I suppose. I couldn't take it anymore."

"Well, I know that didn't happen, 'cause here we both are." McCormick gave up a sincere and heartfelt smile.

Hardcastle started shaking his head no. "No, I did kiddo, I walked off, I'm not sure how far I walked, I know I couldn't see the fire any more. Then I came back. It was a regular comedy in here," he pointed to his head. "I came back and I sat back down for awhile. I'm telling you it was some sort of madness. And then I made up my mind again, I was going to leave once and for all. I stood up and took off."

"Hardcastle, did anyone ever tell you that you're not a great storyteller? Cut to the chase already, what made you stay?"

"I walked past the fire, past where you were lying, covered in mud from head to toe and you were shivering and shaking from the cold, even though you were inches from the fire. I thought you were sound asleep, but I'm not sure if you were delirious or dreaming or talking in your sleep," Milt paused and said, "You sure had a lot to say. I didn't even know you did that, talk in your sleep, did you know you did that?"

McCormick shook his head no, "How would I know that? If I'm asleep, I'm asleep. So what did I say?" McCormick was intrigued.

"You mumbled something about regrets again. Remember that first night we talked about that? I thought you were awake, so I asked you what you were saying. And you said you rethought your regrets and that it was a ton minus one or something pretty close to that."

"No way, I said that?"

"Yep, a ton minus one, I remember that distinctly. Do you think I'm making this up McCormick? I asked you to repeat what you said and you said it again, 'a ton minus one.'"

Mark was still skeptical but couldn't help but believe what Hardcastle was telling him, since he was revealing so much. "Nah, you're right, even you wouldn't make this up. So what was the minus one? I know you must have asked me."

"You said you didn't regret any of the last couple of years, even this, no matter what ended up happening to us."

McCormick started to laugh, "Now I know you're pulling my leg Hardcase. Maybe I talk in my sleep, but whole sentences? And whole sentences that make sense? Come on, no one does that. It's always gibberish."

"You've been watching too many movies kiddo. I'm telling you what happened out there. Are you calling me a liar? I've been honest about all this. You really don't remember any of this huh?" The Judge asked him. "I guess I thought you were awake again, trying to fake me out or something. Believe me, I was hoping you'd remember it."

"Judge, I'd just spent four days out there lost, alone, hungry, wet and cold, and just like you I was exhausted, mentally and physically. I might have said it and seemed conscious to you at the time, but this is all news to me. All I remember is waking up the next day and eating the little bit of Bugs Bunny you had managed to cook up, and up until today, that was about the best meal I had this past month. Is there any more to this nightmare that I need to know?"

"I'm trying to be serious here and tell you what made me stay, because believe me, I was going to leave. Even though I heard you say that about your regrets, I had started to leave once again. I thought it was fear but really it was dread and it was back gnawing away at me."

"Yeah, so what's the difference between fear and dread?" Mark asked him.

The Judge leaned back against the railing and before he could finish reliving the experience he began to describe the difference to McCormick, "Someone explained it to me like this once, fear actually is related to love. Fear is the emotion that rises in us when there is a danger facing something or someone that we love. The catalogue of fears is the catalogue of loves. Love is the attraction for the object, fear is flight from it. Fear is a flight from a future evil which so exceeds our power that we cannot bear up under it. Dread is the fear of nothingness. The negative side of fear is dread, but the positive side is longing. Weird thing is, I never forgot hearing that, now I think I finally understand it."

McCormick listened closely and carefully as his friend spoke. "That makes a lot of sense Judge. I think I can understand most of what you were going through out there, and I'm just sorry you didn't say anything. Maybe I could have helped a lot sooner."

"I still need to tell you what made me stay." Hardcastle turned his back to McCormick. Mark could see his chest rise and fall with every breath he was taking. McCormick knew it was hard for the Judge to say to him from his silence. "You said 'made it back…won't lose another son.' That stopped me dead in my tracks. You actually said that. _You _did that, McCormick. Somehow, even in exhaustion, you knew exactly what to say to me to snap me back to some semblance of reality in the middle of nowhere and even though I still was a mess, I suddenly understood. Things started to get clearer. It was you kiddo. We were in this together, all the way. You made me realize it." Milt spun back around. "I came back and got to work on those cooking up those rabbits." Hardcastle blew out an exhaustive breath. "That's it, that's what happened to me out there, now you know it all."

McCormick exhaled himself and got up slowly from the chair he had been sitting in. "Hardcastle, do me a favor?" He walked over to the Judge and put his arm around his shoulder. "Get inside and shave that nasty-looking beard off, will ya?"

"You think that's gonna solve all my problems, do ya?" The Judge snapped back.

"No, I didn't say that, but it might be a start in the right direction, look what it did for me?" He let his hands drop down and out to his waist and he gave the Judge a grin. "I do think getting all of it out in the open like we just did is going to help a lot too."

"I suppose I'm not going to get much peace and quiet out here until I shave, will I?"

"You're not getting _any_ peace and quiet period, what we both need now is what we're used to, we need people, we need regular old day to day life. So no, I'm not leaving you out here, now come on. We're both going to move on, what's done is done. I've got a plan."

"What are we doing after I get done shaving?"

"Well, first we'll try the diner again, 'cause I am still really hungry, after that, well, if I'm satisfied with your grooming and your attitude, we'll walk down the road to the saloon I spotted, and if you're still being good, I'll buy you a beer that we both want. Whatta ya say?"

The Judge took one more look out to the small forest of trees. The sun was now gone and darkness was quickly setting in. "You're right McCormick, let's go, there's nothing left out here anymore."

The End.


End file.
